Page 8 of Last Violent Call
They had just been hearing about possible Russian men on the streets looking for Yulun’s fiancée, but this man lying dead on the floor was Chinese. On the side of his neck, right beside the entry point of Juliette’s blade, he had a tattoo of an angel.
“I—I don’t think so,” the girl answered hesitantly. She took the helping hand, her shoulders pulled small when she straightened to her feet. “Thank you. You saved me.”
Juliette shrugged. She always got a little embarrassed when receiving gratitude, though she hid it well with a self-assured attitude. Only Roma knew how to spot that flush of pink at the tip of her nose, then that twitch in her hand when she bent down to tug her knife out of the man’s throat, sending a spray of blood across her ankles.
In unison, Roma and the girl winced. While Roma continued watching his wife to make sure she was okay, the girl hurried over to Yulun, gingerly touching his forehead.
“He will come to in a little while,” Roma assured her. “There is no immediate danger from his injuries.”
The girl nodded. Her picture truly hadn’t lied: when a strand of hair fell into her face, Roma couldn’t comprehend how uncanny her resemblance to Alisa was. Though the dark blond color served as the most obvious point of comparison, her curls fell from her head in the exact same way too, from the tight, unruly locks that stayed messy at the top to the looser waves along her back. She was pale as she brushed the strand away.
“What happened?” Juliette asked from across the room. She knew she needed to jump in. Roma was practically at a loss for words while he flailed over the incomprehensible illusion of his little sister crouching in front of him.
“They have been threatening me for some time. I suppose it is only now that they finally found my location and…” The girl hesitated, trailing off midsentence. “How much has Yulun told you?”
Juliette didn’t entirely answer the question either. “I gather that you know he came to us for help.”
A nod. “I could hardly believe him, but he said you were… well…”
“Devochka, what’s your name?” Roma interrupted, before she could go wavingtheirnames around and they would have to continue telling blatant lies. “Pardon us for not asking sooner.”
The girl looked down, pressing her hand to Yulun’s cheek. “That’s allright. There was a lot going on.”
On cue, from where she stood, Juliette shook free a bedsheet she had rummaged out from one of the cabinet drawers and draped it over the dead body. She met Roma’s eyes.
You’re helping me drag him out afterward,she mouthed in English.
Dear Lord.
“I am Milyena,” the girl, meanwhile, was saying. “You can call me Mila. Everyone around here does.”
“Very well, Mila.” Roma braced his hands on his knees and stood up, wincing from the fast movement. “See if you can assist Yulun upright. My wife will help you get him into our car.”
Mila blinked. “Car?”
“You cannot possibly stay here if your location has been exposed,” Juliette added. “It is only a short drive, I promise. Now…” Juliette looked to Roma again, inclining her head toward the covered corpse. “Use your strong muscles for me, please, qin’ài de?”
Rather unceremoniously, Roma dumped the attacker’s body into a canal.
“This is terrible,” he grumbled under his breath, dusting his hands off. “The poor fish.”
“The poor fish?” Juliette echoed. “We’re feeding the fish so many good nutrients. This is going to be the best meal they’ve had in years. Delicious human meat.”
If he didn’t love Juliette so much, he would really spend every waking moment in fear of what went on in that mind of hers. But because he loved her, and he was clearly out of his mind too, he only turned and steered her back into the house. After returning to Zhouzhuang, the priority had been getting Yulun out of the car and giving Mila a blanket so she would stop shaking. Only then did Roma and Juliette come back to the car and heave the dead body out of the trunk—well, Romaheaved and Juliette issued instructions while lugging merely one ankle. Roma was very certain that Juliette herself possessed the strength to be throwing dead bodies into canals, but she always liked pleading weakness. Perhaps she just preferred watching him sweat instead.
When they entered the house again, Yulun was awake. They had set him on the sofa, with Juliette fretting the whole time about the material fraying at the sides and pressing uncomfortably if Yulun put his head down. Roma had voiced his doubt that Yulun would mind being scratched by the sofa, but Juliette had hurried for a pillow nonetheless, and now Yulun was looking confusedly at the green cushion beside him, cross-stitched with the top half of a frog.
Juliette didn’t have the patience for cross-stitching. She had learned that rather late into her project. Not that it had stopped her from keeping her half-completed frog around anyway.
“So,” she said, her voice carrying as she wandered into the adjoining kitchen. She had left the kettle on the stove to boil. “Start from the beginning.”
“The beginning of the attack?” Yulun asked.
“Or the beginning of everything?” Mila continued softly.
Roma leaned against the wall, widening his eyes at Juliette for the briefest second when she turned around holding the kettle. That had been a little eerie. Maybe this was how people felt when he and Juliette spoke in accidental unison.
“The beginning of everything, of course,” Roma said. He hesitated a moment, then added in Russian, “You can switch if you want. We will understand.”
